Dream Log: December 5, 2002 (person)

There once was a girl with raven hair who wore nothing but a simple white dress. She lived in a vast hollow pyramid made entirely of small grey bricks, a pyramid so large that a strange grey light was all she could see in any direction. This was the world she knew, and this was where she had lived on nothing but water and air for as long as she could remember. Still, she dared to hope, and every day she spent looking upward at a barely-visible spot of daylight hundreds of feet above her at the pyramid's apex. She would stand and leap, trying to jump higher and higher until she could escape, and every day she jumped that tiny little bit further, that imperceptible distance closer to freedom.

Years went by, years spend leaping further and further until she could eventually feel the chains of gravity loosen around her, giving up all hope of keeping her down and instead slowly letting her slip from its grasp. Then, quite suddenly, one day she jumped softly and solwly the entire height of the pyramid and out through the small aperture at the top, where she landed on top and saw eight sets of steps spreading outwards from the summit and leading down to the ground below.

She soon found herself in a dank alleyway at the foot of the pyramid, overshadowed by tall and bleak buildings. As she walked out into winter's daylight, barefoot on the cold and filthy concrete, she stopped and saw for the first time how vast the world was. She stood overlooking a city which teemed with colour and life and variety, which spread into a huge harbour next to an unimaginable expanse of blue ocean. She watched with wonder, but knew that as soon as she had discovered this place she would have to leave it behind.

The slightest hint of sadness she felt was overpowered by her elation as she soared skyward and watched the vast world shrink into nothing and disappear all together behind a carpet of perfect soft whiteness. She was destined for the sky, and the clouds were her home.